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Johnson, Owen, 1878-1952

"Murder in Any Degree"


"Theobald," said Booverman, selecting his cleek and speaking with
inspired conviction, "I will tell you exactly what is going to happen. I
will smite this little homeopathic pill, and it will land just where I
want it. I will probably put out for another two. Three holes in twos
would probably excite any other human being on the face of this globe.
It doesn't excite me. I know too well what will follow on the fourth or
fifth. Watch."
"Straight to the pin," said Pickings in a loud whisper. "You've got a
dead line on every shot to-day. Marvelous! When you get one of your
streaks, there's certainly no use in my playing."
"Streak's the word," said Booverman, with a short, barking laugh. "Thank
heaven, though, Pickings, I know it! Five years ago I'd have been
shaking like a leaf. Now it only disgusts me. I've been fooled too
often; I don't bite again."
In this same profoundly melancholic mood he approached his ball, which
lay on the green, hole high, and put down a difficult put, a good three
yards for his third two.
Pickings, despite all his classic conservatism, was so overcome with
excitement that he twice putted over the hole for a shameful five.


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